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Chapter 35 - Breakthrough

The days slowly flew by, with Sev spending most of his time sitting on top of the main carriage, staring into the distance while holding his summoned guitar. From time to time, he would play a melody—only to stop in the middle with a slightly frustrated expression.

The caravan was never attacked. The number of wildlife they encountered only grew, but to the lost souls it must've seemed like a miracle—at least to those capable of noticing it. The true reason for their safety was Sev's extensive knowledge and expertise in traversing the desert.

Sev was a truly incredible and capable leader. Even without the existence of nights, he somehow knew when the souls grew tired. He knew where to find cool caves filled with fresh water, and he knew when to stop or change direction. It was as if he could see into the future.

He had just emerged from the supply wagon at the tail of the caravan. Calmly, he jumped down onto the prismarine sand and walked among the men, women, and children clad in bleached white robes, a piece of dried meat in his mouth as he observed them.

Most of them were badly hurt from walking so long. Their feet were burned and bruised, their lips dry, their heads hung low. Some looked like they would collapse soon—especially the children.

'They won't last much longer,' Sev made a mental note as he kept walking.

The surroundings were quiet—more than usual. But since there was no imminent danger, he pushed the thought aside.

Reaching the main carriage, he climbed onto the roof and sat down cross-legged, still chewing on the flavorless meat. There was still some time before they reached the last return point, so he decided to experiment.

He reached into his mind, and as he did, white sparks surrounded his fist. He had gotten a new Notion recently and had yet to discover its effects.

A tight brown leather glove formed on his right hand. He had gained it after hunting a desert bison—one of the most common creatures found this close to the mountains, and also their main source of food.

He played with the glove for a few moments, inspecting the material and testing its durability. He clenched his fist, formed several hand signs, and tried to will an effect from it, but nothing happened.

After a while, he dejectedly dismissed the Notion and pulled out his notebook, writing down his findings—or lack thereof—with his blood.

Before long, the caravan approached the last return point. Sev stood beside the resting Astel, whose injuries still looked as if they hadn't healed much. He hadn't yet inspected Astel's memories, but that didn't stop him from visiting the closest thing he had to a friend—even if he only meant to use him.

"Get well soon…" The words slipped from under his breath before he turned away, preparing for the toughest challenge yet.

Astel, meanwhile, had been channeling his energy nonstop. The longer he did, the more it hurt, but in his mind, he knew he had no choice.

He had already explored every part around his heart and chest—externally, internally, and metaphysically—and he was growing desperate. Each time he woke after passing out, he pushed himself further and harder, noticing every little change and exhausting his body to the point it couldn't even heal itself.

But finally, he found it.

As his energy flowed around the solar plexus, he felt his body rejuvenating. It was only a slight change, but it was exactly what he had been looking for.

Not knowing what would happen—even after being warned by the other Astel dozens of times—he gathered as much energy as he could and pushed it all into the anchor point.

Immediately, his body started healing. Small wounds closed, bruises cleared, and the larger injuries stopped bleeding. Gradually, his body was being repaired.

The other Astel was quiet. He had been for a while, but Astel couldn't care less. He had succeeded. He was right, and the other him was wrong.

A wide grin grew on his face, an expression of victory.

But the moment didn't last.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain pierced his heart, knocking the wind out of his lungs and dragging him out of meditation. With one hand he gripped his chest, the other covering his mouth.

He coughed.

Looking down at his hand, he saw it was covered in blood.

The world started spinning. His consciousness blurred.

Everything hurt—like being pierced by hundreds of thousands of needles. He had never felt such pain before.

His previously healed wounds split open again, gushing blood. The voices in his head intensified—millions of screaming tongues in languages he couldn't understand.

The agony was unbearable.

Astel screamed, begging for it to end—even if it meant death.

Sev stood atop the carriage as the caravan turned back according to his orders. His eyes were peeled open, his mind sharp, in case the sandworm returned. He hadn't seen signs of it in a while, which worried him slightly.

As usual, the wind picked up. It was colder than ever. The mountains were at their fingertips.

A shiver ran down Sev's spine. Something was wrong.

In that exact moment, Astel's heart stopped.

His body no longer convulsed. The pain was gone. He couldn't feel anything anymore. No more blood flowed through him. His thoughts were muted.

He had died.

Sev pushed aside the unease, unaware of what was happening below him. He only had one thought: getting everyone into the underground cavern before the storm arrived.

This storm was different—fundamentally so. The influence of the mountains was too strong. It couldn't be called a sandstorm anymore.

It was a snowstorm.

The unseen sun boiled the snow instantly, releasing steam that mixed with hot sand and freezing wind. Anyone caught in it would die instantly.

Luckily, there was a cave system beneath the mountains. Sev and the other survivors of the sanctuary had once used it to cross the storm.

But there was one problem: the desert's shifting nature.

You couldn't simply remember where the cave was. It was never in the same place relative to your position. Maps—whether drawn or held in one's memory—were useless.

With everyone's lives riding on his shoulders, Sev had to perform a miracle.

But miracles were what he was known for.

Even if they came at a cost.

Inside the carriage, Astel's body began to glow. Small, floating ethereal sparks lit up the dark interior. His fingertips slowly decomposed into pure energy.

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